


little hands, reaching forward

by natalie_nebula



Series: weekend memories [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Artist Steve Rogers, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Complete, Domestic Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Domestic Fluff, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Kid Fic, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Prelude to actual kid fic, sequel to A day in the life of Steve Rogers, weekend memories series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21666790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalie_nebula/pseuds/natalie_nebula
Summary: “What in the hell are you two doing here?”“What does it look like, Stevie? I’m an art teacher now, just like Professor Gaines, but a hundred times better.”After the events of Endgame, Steve is retired, in a relationship with Bucky, and spending his time volunteering as an art teacher, when one day he is very rudely interrupted by his friends and by newfound realizations.Part of the "weekend memories" series and a sequel to "A day in the life of Steve Rogers" but can be read on its own.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Series: weekend memories [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1399582
Comments: 14
Kudos: 128





	little hands, reaching forward

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! YES I'm alive! And back with another update after a couple of months hiatus (I told you guys I'd be back!). After some ups and downs creatively (and getting a new laptop), I finally have another installment out in this series, and plan on posting more often in 2020. If you're new, this is an anthology series based on my Endgame fix-it "A day in the life of Steve Rogers." All of the fics in this AU are tagged under the "weekend memories" series, and if you liked this one you're sure to love those too! They're all technically readable by themselves, but this fic especially has a lot of minor OC characters that are explained more in my Endgame fix-it, so I recommend reading that one first. Also there's a few lesbian moms in this one which is pretty neat.
> 
> Part of what motivated me to write and post this so suddenly was reading comments and getting kudos in my inbox from all of you guys, even though that original fic was posted months ago. It really boosts my creative spirit and I can't tell you how much I appreciate feedback! I try to respond to all the comments that come in right after I post and even if I don't respond I do read and love all of them. Also, if you have any suggestions for scenarios to write in future fics in this universe, please let me know. I love your feedback! (Also I realized right as I was about to hit post that I meant to have a scene where we get to see Bucky draw something so let me know if that's something you'd like to see at some point, I think it'd be pretty funny). 
> 
> You can also communicate with me on twitter @budgetzendaya <3 love you all and enjoy!

“Alright class, you have five minutes left. Finish up your drawings, please.”

The instructor’s heels clicked as she paced the wooden floors. The room filled with echoing pencil scratches on paper and the distant hums and screeching of cars down on the streets below.

“ _Pssst,_ hey Steve—” Steve kept his eyes on his sketchbook. “How’d yours turn out? Mine’s a mess.”

Steve chuckled under his breath and continued drawing.”Y’know you can’t _always_ blame the model, Buck, _or_ Professor Gaines—”

Bucky sat up on his stool and scoffed, “I’m not _blaming_ anyone per say, I mean, you gotta admit, though, the dame they brought in last week sat in a pretty awkward position, but—”

“SHH! Three minutes left,” The professor shot a quick glare at Bucky from across the room and he stuck his nose back into his notebook. Steve couldn’t help but laugh a little, hiding his grin behind his hand.

“Punk.”

“Jerk.”

As he kept drawing, he could feel Bucky’s eyes over his shoulder, watching him delicately shade below her chin or between her brows. Steve didn’t like to gloat—in fact, he was raised not to—but he’d always had a knack for drawing. 

_Beats me why Buck always follows me here, though,_ He thought to himself as he gently rubbed his eraser over a spot on the page. He felt his heartbeat pick up like a songbird trapped in a hanging metal cage, wings flapping frantically to be set free. He sensed Bucky leaning even closer, resting his left hand on the back of Steve’s stool to steady himself as he loomed over him and the sketchpad splayed out on his lap.

“That’s beautiful, Stevie—”

“Alright everyone, time’s up! Put your pencils down. Class dismissed, I’ll see you all next week.”

And just like that, Bucky’s whispers disappeared, melting into nothingness against the backdrop of stools moving and people talking and shoes scraping across the old hardwood. Bucky clapped a hand on Steve’s back and smiled. 

“So, whaddya say, pal, we comin’ next week?”

It felt like an earthquake.

* * *

“Good afternoon, Miss Candace.”

“Good afternoon, class. How are you today?”

The monotone chorus of seven year-olds responded sporadically as they all gathered around their teacher’s feet. 

Steve sat towards the back of the small crowd gathered on the rug, watching with eager grins as Candace addressed the class. She wore her hair long in small braids that framed her face and fell down past her shoulders. Steve watched her, excitedly gesturing with her paint-stained hands as she spoke to the captivated audience gazing up at her. Steve had been volunteering at the after school art program for several months, and he pretty much had the routine down pat: he would arrive a little before opening, Candace would give a brief rundown of the day’s activity, he would help her set up, help settle the children as they started trickling in from school, and then she’d explain the project to the whole group, always with the same infectious enthusiasm Steve had come to love about her.

Today, however, was different. Steve noticed an extra bit of nervous jitters whenever Candace spoke, tapping her foot or twirling one of her braids. She’d told him they would be drawing that day, but she never told him exactly _what._ Nevertheless, she seemed excited, more so than most days, and Steve was excited to see what she had in store for them. 

“Alright class, I have a _very_ special surprise for you today, and I need you all to be on your very best behavior, alright?” A hushed silence immediately fell over the wiggly crowd. Candace clapped her hands together, pleased. “We have two awesome guests to make some art with you guys. Are you ready to meet them?”

Candace’s eyes flicked up at Steve and she smiled and winked at him. He just gazed back, confused. 

* * *

_Earlier that day…_

* * *

“And what are _you_ up to this afternoon, Sergeant?”

Bucky smirked, coming up behind Steve and resting his hands on his hips before gently placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Making a mess over at the gym with Sam, y’know, the usual.”

“Is that so?”

Steve laughed as he placed another dish on the drying rack, leaning back into Bucky’s chest. Meanwhile, Bucky continued to trail kisses down his neck. 

“Mmm… would rather be at art class…mmm…with you though…”

Steve slowed down scrubbing Bucky’s coffee mug with the warm sponge in his hand.

“…Really? I mean—you can come if you want, Buck. Just gotta let Candace know first.”

Bucky just kept trailing kisses. “Mmm… ‘think about it.” And with that, he snatched his phone and keys off the counter and was already halfway out the door.

“I love you!” Bucky shouted. The door slammed shut behind him.

Steve shook his head, still smiling. “Love you too, Buck.”

* * *

“Class, I’d like you all to give a warm welcome to Captain Sam Wilson and Sergeant James Barnes!” 

The room immediately erupted into a cacophonous chorus of tiny “oh’s” and “wow’s!” and “that’s Captain America!” as Sam and Bucky sauntered in from the foyer, fully decked out in their uniforms. 

“Alright listen up everyone! Since we have such special guests with us today, I thought they could help us out with a special project.” 

The two Avengers were now crouched down in front of the group of children sat on the carpet, waving hello and giving out high-fives with enormous smiles on their faces. Sam stood up and clapped his hands together, addressing the tiny crowd. 

“Your awesome teacher here, Miss Candace,” Sam gestured towards her and she blushed, “invited us here to help with our new art exhibit!” There was another brief chorus of “ooo’s” and “ah’s” before Sam started speaking again. “Sergeant Barnes and I wanna know, what makes _you_ a superhero?”

Candace stepped in to finish explaining, “That’s right, Cap! Today we’ll all be drawing ourselves as superheroes, and those drawings will be put on display in Mr. Rogers’ art gallery for everyone to see. How cool is that?!” 

Once again, the room erupted in tiny gasps and cheers, and murmurs of excitement and new ideas (“I’m gonna draw myself flying!” “I’m gonna show myself talking to animals!” “My superhero is gonna breathe underwater _and_ on land!”). 

“Alright class, listen up.” Candace clapped, “We’re gonna take our seats and Captain Wilson and Sergeant Barnes will come around and work with you guys, alright?”

“Yes, Miss Candace,” the class responded in adorable unison, before getting up and shuffling to the tables. 

As all of this was happening, Steve’s eyes were simultaneously glued to the two men at the front of the room and _completely_ lost in space. He stood slack-jawed, frozen, until he felt a soft tug on the edge of his right shirt sleeve. 

“Um, Mr. Rogers?” It was Aaron, looking up at him with his big brown doe eyes, “Can you please sit with me?” 

Steve snapped out of his stupor momentarily and smiled down at him, “Of course, Aaron.” He glanced back up at the front of the room, then gave Aaron a pat on the shoulder. “Why don’t you go sit and I’ll be right with you, okay?” 

Aaron nodded and walked over to the little table they usually sat at together. Steve waded through the sea of kids taking their seats and made his way to the front of the room, where Sam and Bucky were making small-talk with Candace before shouts of “Miss Candace!” from one of the other tables pulled her away ( _thank god_ ). 

When Steve approached, Sam and Bucky both looked down at him with smug looks on their faces. He quickly glanced around to make sure there were no little ones in earshot.

“What the _hell_ are you two doing here?”

“What does it look like, Stevie? I’m an art teacher now, just like Professor Gaines, but a hundred times better,” Bucky chuckled.

Steve gave him his classic scornful mother look, straight out of 1939, when he'd have to drag Bucky out of the drunk tank on _his_ Saturday night after a rough week working the docks. 

Bucky scoffed at him, “I thought you said I could come.” 

“Well, not without warning Candace ahead of time! When did you have time to organize all this? I invited you this morning!” 

Sam let out a laugh, resting his hands on the edge of his pants pockets. “What, you thought when I was chatting Candace up at your show that I was asking her out or something?” 

Bucky gestured to Sam, “Yeah, and he didn’t even ask her out _after_ they talked about art class. Very professional.” They both nodded overzealously. 

Steve sighed, crossing his arms and biting his lip. 

“ _Fine._ I mean, I’m glad you’re here and I’m glad the kids get to see you, I just wish you guys had told me first.”

Bucky reached out and clapped his metal arm onto Steve’s right shoulder.

“Sorry, bud.”

“We wanted it to be a surprise!”

Steve considered the smug smirks still plastered to both their faces, but he also felt Bucky’s metal thumb drawing gentle circles through his shirt sleeve, and he couldn’t resist the warmth he felt spreading from that point all throughout his body.

_Goddamnit, Buck._

“Alright alright, you win.”

They both interjected with a stupid little “yes!” and a high five.

“ _But_ , I already have a table that I sit at and kids that I work with. Try finding your own group of friends, okay?” 

“Yessir,” They both saluted him and then wandered off into the classroom. Steve sighed again and shook his head. 

_Hopefully they won’t cause too much trouble…_

* * *

“Umm… Mr. Rogers?”

“Yes, Aaron?”

Steve turned and looked over his left shoulder and found Aaron pressed up against his side. He glanced down at Aaron’s paper and saw the beginning of his self-portrait; a tiny superhero with short curly hair and sweet brown eyes and a kind smile (even if it was just a curved line in crayon). He was standing in the grass with his hands on his hips and he had on a mask, a cape, and a shield attached to his right forearm. 

Steve couldn’t help but smile, “That’s really great so far Aaron.”

Aaron was anxiously kicking his feet under the table. “Thank you Mr. Rogers. Umm… can I ask you a question?” 

“Sure thing bud! Shoot.”

The boy looked down into his lap, then looked back up and pointed at Bucky across the room. “Um, my Mama Shirley said, that um, you and… _Srar_ -gent Barnes were on the news the other day.”

Steve’s eyes widened at that, “Oh yeah? And what did they say about us on the news?”

“That you were married, like Mama Shirley and Mama Ashley.”

“Well we’re not _married_ , we’re just a couple. Were you there when Mama Shirley and Mama Ashley got married?” Aaron nodded enthusiastically. “And you remember the time before that when they were still together?” Another nod. “Welp, it’s just like that then.”

“So will you get married someday?” 

Steve glanced up at Bucky briefly. He was at a table near the window, helping Shawna use the safety scissors to cut her superhero out like a paper doll. He chuckled at the sight of Bucky—all six feet and 200 pounds of him—tucked into a tiny plastic chair doing arts and crafts with a big dumb smile on his face that went all the way up into his eyes.

He glanced back down at Aaron and gently patted him on the shoulder. “I think that would be really swell if we did, Aaron.”

“Me too!” The boy eagerly pressed his crayon back to the page and kept scribbling. After a few very focused minutes of drawing, he abruptly looked back up from his work, contemplating. “Um, Mr. Rogers?”

“Yes, Aaron,” This time Steve kept his eyes on his own work: a quick colored-pencil sketch of Sam sitting with the kids, enthusiastically explaining to them what flying feels like. _The light from the window is just hitting him so perfectly…_

“Um, when you were a superhero, The Avengers were you friends, right? And you did stuff all together?”

“Yes, we did. We were like a family.” As Steve glanced up to get another look at Sam, he could have sworn he saw a woman with a spark of red hair walking briskly down the sidewalk, just out of the corner of his eye.

“Should I put all my friends in the drawing then?”

Steve looked down at Aaron’s paper and saw a short blond figure standing in the grass beside his own self-portrait. The man had a red, white, and blue star on his chest and what appeared to be a comically oversized pencil in his hand.

Steve chuckled as he looked down at the drawing, reaching out and gently fussing with the corner of the paper. That same warmth was filling him again. He abruptly glanced back up when he heard uproarious laughter coming from the front of the classroom again. This time, Bucky had Shawna on his lap, and was playfully shaking her, telling her “this is what the Quinjet feels like!” while endless giggles poured out of her and her other little friends at the table. This time, Bucky was smiling with his teeth, and his dimples were showing. 

“Yeah, Aaron, I think that’s a great idea.”

“Um, can you and uh, Miss Candace help me?” 

* * *

Aaron’s genius idea was to put all of the self portraits together into one big superhero mural: The 125th Street Avengers. Needless to say, Candace was ecstatic when Aaron approached her—Steve in tow—and explained his little plan to her. After she announced it to the whole class, Aaron guided Steve to every single table and they personally viewed and complimented every students’ work. When they rounded the corner to Bucky’s table at the front, Steve gently detached himself from Aaron and stood over Bucky, who had to look _up_ at him while he sat hunched over in that tiny plastic seat.

“Sure there isn’t a weight limit on that thing, Sarge?” 

Bucky clapped a hand over his knee. “Welp, it hasn’t let me down yet.”

“Don’t speak so soon, Buck.” As the larger man readjusted to face him, the chair let out a very loud creak. 

Steve laughed, but Bucky went silent for a moment. He bit his lip and shook his head. “I’m real sorry, Stevie. I mean it. I—Sam and I didn’t know it would upset you so much having us here so sudden like this—”

“Oh shut up, Buck.” Steve kneeled down so they were at eye level. He sighed, “I’m not mad. I just—it caught me off guard, y’know? This is kinda my _thing_ now, now that I’m not…” He gestured at Bucky, then over at Sam, who was helping out at the back wall, in charge of the stapler. “And I like having my own thing, it feels good.”

Bucky nodded, “I get it, bud. I’m sorry we intruded on your space like that.”

“Oh no, Buck, it’s fine, really! I mean, seeing you with the kids today—” He glanced over at Aaron, who was bravely conversing with the rest of the kids at the table _on his own_ , complimenting their drawings and talking about how _cool_ it is meeting Captain America. 

“It was really sweet, Buck. I mean it. And the kids loved it! I’m really happy you guys came out today.” 

Bucky scoffed, scratching the back of his neck and looking down into his lap. _Like he used to do when he got embarrassed in front of a dame._

“Well, if Candace lets us, we could probably come back again sometime.”

“Y’mean if she’s not sick of you and your antics riling up her classroom?” 

“Hey! You said it yourself, the kids loved us!” 

“Maybe it’s cuz you and Sam _are_ a couple of kids, ya big dope.” 

“Takes one to know one, punk.”

“Jerk!” 

* * *

“Mission report, Sergeant? How are those dishes coming along?”

They had just finished up dinner. Steve had whipped up some of his famous “Ma’s Macaroni” (referring to _Sam’s_ ma, not his), and now Bucky was stuck standing at the kitchen sink, elbow-deep in frothy dishwater with a huge grimace on his face. 

“Y’know, I’m pretty sure Shuri said something about not getting this thing wet…”

“ _James Barnes_ , we live in the _future,_ goddamnit _._ If you can manage to drop your phone in the toilet every other night before bed and still turn it on the next morning, I’m pretty sure a bionic vibranium arm made by the smartest kid on God’s Green Earth can handle a little dish soap.”

Bucky turned and grumbled something under his breath about it being _a lot_ of dish soap, but Steve quickly retaliated by snatching the tea towel hanging by the oven door and swatting his ass with it.

“OUCH! Hey, that hurt!” Bucky whined, pouting at him.

“Oh sure it did, soldier,” Steve scoffed as he turned to exit the kitchen. “Now quit yapping and get your ass back to work! Captain’s orders.” He shot Buck a wink as he disappeared into the sunroom and Bucky smirked back at him.

“Yessir, _Captain._ ”

Steve chuckled as he rounded the corner into his art studio, then stopped. He stood a little past the archway, just admiring the view of the sunset painting the garden in pinks and blues. _Just beautiful, like a watercolor come to life._

He stepped towards the back door and slid on his red, white, and blue crocs that Sam had gotten him as a joke for his birthday (“Old men _love_ wearing crocs while they put around in the backyard, isn’t that right, Fury?”). Needless to say, the joke went over a lot better with Steve than it had with Nick. 

The air was warm, but the breeze was cool and fresh. Smelled like the Atlantic, just like it always had. Steve stopped on the edge of the porch and closed his eyes. He could hear birds, and wind chimes tinkling, and the sounds of children’s laughter drifting over from the neighbor’s yard, just over the wooden fence. Steve looked over his right shoulder and saw a pair of siblings, a boy and a girl, dashing about in the grass, chasing each other in circles, completely carefree. Watching them gave Steve a sense of weightlessness that settled at the center of his chest. 

After a few minutes of running and tumbling, as the sun was beginning to bow below the old oak tree that stretched its branches across both their yards, a young woman’s voice came from the direction of the house next door. 

“Alright you two, time to come in! Your mother brought home ice cream!” 

The two siblings cheered, then, with just as much energy as before, bounded up the wooden porch steps and into the house. Just as they made their way inside, Steve watched as another woman came up to the sliding door and leaned out. She wrapped her arm around the first woman’s waist and gave her a peck on the cheek, before the two of them also disappeared into the neighboring brownstone, and the tiny world of the garden returned to silence. The birds had gone to sleep in the nest, the wind had died down, but that weightless feeling growing in between Steve’s ribs remained. 

After watching the sun finally retreat below the horizon, Steve slid open the back door and stepped inside. As he was kicking off his crocs, he heard Bucky talking on the phone in the kitchen.

“Yeah, I know sir, but are you sure we don’t have any other intel? I mean we’d be running into a gunfight blind at this point—yes sir, yes sir I understand…” He sighed, tapping his sock-covered foot anxiously as he stood there in the kitchen, alone. Steve watched silently, leaned up against the archway, peering into the room from the threshold.

“I understand, sir. Tomorrow. 0500 hours. I’ll be there.” He hung up.

Then he tossed the phone halfway across the room and the case went flying. 

Steve jolted upright, startled by the sound of plastic hitting hardwood. 

That’s when Bucky noticed him watching.

“Shit, _fuck_ , god, Stevie, I’m sorry baby.” He wiped his right hand down his face, then back up to tangle his fingers in his hair. 

Steve stayed put at the edge of the sunroom. 

“It’s fine, Buck, you just scared me there for a second.”

Bucky let out a truly exhausted sigh. “I understand that but it doesn’t make it okay.” He kept his eyes away from Steve, instead sauntering to the other side of the room and slowly crouching down to pick up the phone. Steve just stood there and watched as he snapped the case back on. He could have sworn he saw the outline of Bucky’s muscles through his skin, pulled too taught and worn out over the years. Every fiber stretched thin, threadbare. 

That’s when Steve approached him, slowly, arms crossed over his chest.

“Bucky?”

Gradually, Bucky turned around. Steve was looking up at him with wet eyes. 

“ _Bucky._ ” He reached out a hand and gently rested it on Bucky’s left arm. Steve knew that Bucky could feel the warmth of his fingers through the new prosthetic. 

“ _Steve_ —” He swung around and pulled Steve tight against his chest, resting his chin on the top of Steve’s head. Steve melted into the soft cotton of his t-shirt, took in his smell, the sound of his heartbeat—quick, but steady. He took it all in with a deep breath, down to the bottom of his lungs. But the pocket of air was still inside him, and he couldn’t control it as bubbled up out of his lips and burst forth into a sob. It was choking him, he felt like he was drowning in Bucky’s arms. But Bucky held on strong, firm, _reliable_ , rubbing broad circles into his back, shushing him, swaying them together as one unit across the cold hardwood floor. Steve felt a small tremor, and then something wet touching the top of his head, but he said nothing. They just stood there, for who knows how long, holding each other’s warmth inside a space so small that their love could have caught fire. 

* * *

“What time are you leaving tomorrow?”

“Uh…briefing is at 0500, so probably 4:30?” 

It was almost ten o’clock. They were tucked into bed, Steve resting his head on Bucky’s chest, listening to him breathe. The room returned to not necessarily a comfortable silence, but an amicable one. Bucky groaned, and adjusted his chin and his left arm, which was cradling Steve to his side. Steve felt him lean over. He reached around with his right hand to rest it on Steve’s cheek, then started planting gentle kisses along Steve’s hairline, then slowly down to the spot between his brows. 

“Hey Buck?” Steve voice was so soft it was almost imperceptible in the dark room. _Buck always used to say I was like a cat during the day and a dormouse at night._

“Mhm?” Bucky moaned, his lips pressed against Steve’s forehead.

Steve didn’t know what had overcome him but in that moment the bubble burst out of him again.

“Would you ever wanna have kids?” 

Steve felt Bucky’s entire body stiffen beneath him, every muscle contracting and freezing all at once. Steve knew instinctively that if he glanced at his phone clock on the bedside table, it would read out that time had somehow frozen too. 

Bucky let out a deep sigh, and his bones rattled like the bones of an old wooden house caught in a storm. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, raspy and warm.

“Honestly, Stevie, I’d love that.” The words tumbled out of him like he was letting out a breath after being underwater. Like he’d been down there for some time and had just come up for air. “But I—I don’t think that’s possible, with the job I’ve got.” 

The words looked like they stung coming out of his throat and they stung in Steve’s ears. He twisted a little further underneath the covers, a little closer to Bucky’s chest, as though they weren’t already blending into one another beneath the sheets. 

Silence, again, for a beat. And then,

“Would you ever…retire?” 

Steve felt Bucky’s head as it shot up, and turned his own head cautiously. Bucky was looking down at him, looking at him in a way he had honest-to-god never seen before in his entire life. Steve felt the air bubble in his chest slowly growing again, but this time, it wasn’t an empty feeling, it felt _warm_. 

Then, Bucky smiled, and he laughed and shook his head. 

“To raise a family with _you,_ doll?” He leaned down and gave Steve a tender kiss on the lips. “In a heartbeat!”


End file.
